


The Hard-Light Alchemist

by LochAndLoad



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga, Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fullmetal Alchemist 2003/Brotherhood Fusion, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Reaper and Widowmaker are sorta inspired by the 2003 anime tho, Satya is from Hyderabad etc etc, The Amari's are Ishvalan, Will I write more of this AU? Maybe, Worldbuilding is a huge mesh of FMA and OvW, Written for Law And Order: A Symmarah Fanzine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-02
Updated: 2019-04-02
Packaged: 2020-01-01 03:51:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18328070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LochAndLoad/pseuds/LochAndLoad
Summary: Acclaimed State Alchemist, Satya Viswani, and her bodyguard Pharah are sent to the city of Janeiro to uncover an underground rebellion and bring their leader to justice, but what they find reveals a much more sinister conspiracy from the institutions they trust most.(Fanfic written for the Law And Order Symmarah fanzine!)





	The Hard-Light Alchemist

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was originally a fun Plan B I had for the fanzine that I would only write if Plan A didn't work out, but then I got super invested, made up a whole plot, and it became my only fic for the zine XD
> 
> Super thanks to Eterna for the beta, and to everyone who supported the fanzine!!

Satya shot up with a silent scream, a cold grip sinking into her shoulders. Her breath caught and she choked, struggling against it.

She was in the black basement, Ana’s dead, transmuted claws reaching through the Circle, tearing at her. Telling her all the truths she knew in her heart.

Fareeha was gone.

( _All your fault_.)

A distant voice pierced through the nothingness, gentle and soothing - a balm over her fears. She took a strained breath and clutched the front of her nightshirt, her heart beating a long-forgotten lullaby of home.

She was here.

A hand swept away the black, a dim light filling up her world. Bedsheets were tangled around her bare legs, sweat stained her palms, and the hum of the train was all around her. She was in her private cabin, on her way to Janeiro hundreds of miles away from that basement.

She was _here_.

“Habibti, you’re safe. It’s only me and you.” The cold metal hand lifted her chin and Satya calmed at the sight of red eye-glows, at the silver-blue armour kneeling before her.

Fareeha put her hand on Satya’s cheek, thumb stroking and sending chills down to her toes. The armour could never seem to warm up, and Satya knew all too well why. She took another breath, not wheezing this time, and took Fareeha’s hand in her own - metal to metal. The tension in Fareeha’s shoulders fell, making Satya smile into those red eyes she’s loved for so long.

“I’m here,” She croaked, wincing at her dry throat. She coughed and sat up straight, swinging her legs over the mattress. Fareeha stayed, even as their knees knocked along with the train, and pulled the blankets off. Her free hand then hovered over Satya’s shoulders; a question asked as loudly as possible without speaking.

Satya shook her head - the very thought of more touch right now sent her insides revolting - and Fareeha leaned back. She kept stroking her cheek, feather-light touches ready to rear back at a sign of discomfort.

The armour was cold; Fareeha was not. She was as warm as her mother’s Ishvalan sun, and just as bright.

(Who’s fault was that?)

( _Mine._ )

Satya curled up and rested her forehead on the chest armour, the chill enough to clear her skin of sweat and tears. She took deep breaths, willing her limbs to stop shaking like some child. She had to act like a grown woman.

A low hum vibrated through her. Satya blinked, then pressed her ear to the metal, taking in the familiar tune.

Nami Nami. Ana’s lullaby.

Once a song of a baby girl’s father that would never come home; now a reminder that same wonderful girl would come home to Satya one day, whole like she used to be.

Satya sniffed and hid it in her sleeve. Fareeha brushed back her tangled hair, leaning in close enough to whisper.

“Love you too.”

Satya shuddered and choked again, swallowing the sob threatening to break her apart. Fareeha stood guard, unmoving as a loyal sentinel. _Her_ loyal sentinel, for as long as she would have her.

(Not for long, Satya knew deep within.)

She didn’t know how long they stayed that way, only the rumbling of the train grounded them to reality. The moment ended when the overhead speaker system announced that they would soon arrive at their destination.

With a long-suffering sigh, Satya collected herself and moved out of bed. She could feel those eyes on her, watching every movement. It put her on the edge, something she couldn’t ignore now that she’d noticed it.

“Could you check that all of our luggage is packed?” Satya asked as she flexed her right hand, idly looking over her coloured nails as the small stimulation settled her nerves. Neither had touched their shared duffel bag since boarding the train yesterday.

Fareeha took a moment to reply. “Of course. There’s a clean glass in the bathroom for you.”

Satya nodded her thanks and fixed her bedsheets without meeting Fareeha’s eye. She had a job to do and she needed to be prepared. Fareeha understood her routine and methods.

Satya didn’t worry any less.

 

**0XX0**

 

Janeiro was one of the last places Satya ever expected herself to be. A large city in Southwest Petras, edging the Creta border and bustling with a mixture of cultures unseen elsewhere. Cretan migrants turned this corner of the country into an echo of their old tribal homes, breathing life into the bland Petras culture.

Hyderabad was a world away from Creta and Petras - overshadowed by Xing and Hanamura - but Janeiro made Sayta homesick for a place she hadn’t seen since childhood. Moreso, the streetlights and bright jungle colours over the buildings seemed to spur familiar feelings in Fareeha if her awed gaze was anything to go by.

(Ana had spoken enough of the beauty of Ishval before the Civil war for her to understand what had been lost.)

Unfortunately for them both, the mission was not in the high streets or spice-infused markets, but in the slum underworld.

Dark, murky, and too close to the home Satya had left in Hyderabad, the favela (as the locals called them) was the hub of life for the lower classes. Tall, rundown shacks built on top of each other towered over gravel roads. Hungry bodies lay over the walking paths begging and animals mingled freely amongst the people, leaving their messes as they pleased.

(Satya felt eyes boring into her back, burning her skin and growing stronger.)

The rumoured hub of an uprising.

Satya turned up her nose at it all, holding her breath against every stench threatening to empty her stomach. She’d left Hyderabad for Petras to escape this very environment, and yet here she was, sticking out like the sorest of thumbs. She spared a glance to Fareeha, somewhat jealous for her lack of bodily functions. Even without a face to read, her ‘bodyguard’ telegraphed her anxiousness loudly enough for Satya to pick up.

As much as she wanted to run back to the hotel and decompress already, Satya held firm. She had a job to do, on behalf of the government as a Vishkar-appointed State Alchemist; she would not back down.

But it was easier said than done.

The local people were completely unwilling to speak to either Satya or Pharah. They scowled, spat at their feet - one man even cursed their families!

Satya didn’t know how Fareeha kept so calm while she was barely holding back her tears. They retreated to a lonely corner that let her shake her hands out, stamp her feet, and breath some calm back into herself. Pharah stood guard the entire time, scaring off strangers. Satya was left alone to transmute a stim ball instead of pulling her hair out of her high bun.

Once she was back to her professional state, they returned to the groundwork but it was all the same.

It only took a couple hours of this to cement Satya’s theories: there were clear anti-government feelings in the populace. Enough to inspire a rebellion against the Vishkar settlements in the city.

But her superiors wanted information _on_ the rebellion; anything she could get a hold of so they could avoid the chaos an uprising would bring to the entire southwest. Losing Janeiro to terrorists would be the first domino to fall, leading to the collapse of all of Petras.

Satya could not fail.

With her mind set and plan in motion, Satya and Fareeha returned to their hotel to recuperate. She laid out her plan whilst changing out of her Vishkar uniform: posing as a migrant, she would infiltrate the masses and gain information without raising suspicion. Soon enough, she would be able to find someone of significance; maybe even locate bases!

Fareeha stared at her the entire time, arms crossed and radiating disapprovement. Satya didn’t need a face to know the classic Amari Look.

“What?” She asked as she wrapped her blue and gold saree over her shoulder and waist. She didn’t meet Fareeha’s eye.

“Where am I in this?”

Satya met her then, expression incredulous. “Where you always are.”

“Which is…? Fareeha tilted her helmet and Satya could imagine the raised eyebrow, the way she used to pout.

“With me. We’re partners after all.” Didn’t she get it? They were in this together; there was no way Satya wouldn’t go on a mission without her—

“Your partner who doesn’t exactly blend in these crowds.”

The ‘anymore’ didn’t need to be said.

Satya looked over Fareeha again - her partner, lover, light of her life - and reminded herself just why that was. Stuck in that suit of blue-platinum armour, a soul stolen from her home forevermore. The faceless helmet held nothing of the Fareeha she knew, but it was all she had.

(My fault, _my fault_.)

Even if Satya had gotten used to it, the public wouldn’t. This was one mission Fareeha couldn’t join.

She took a breath and her vision filled with plates of armour. Metal hands hovered over her shoulders, and Fareeha stood close. Not taking over her space, but leaving no room for doubts.

(Fareeha deserved so much better.)

“I don’t want to leave you here alone,” she whispered, unbelieving.

“I’m a big girl.” Fareeha chuckled, slowly rubbing her arms. It did little to soothe her. “Don’t worry, I won’t sit here twiddling my thumbs all day. I’ll be helping you in my own way.”

Satya leaned back to narrow her eyes. “How?”

Fareeha preened, hand to her chest armour. “People like this don’t turn on their officials on a whim. Something happened here to cause it that we don’t know about, and I’m gonna find out what.”

It was Satya’s turn to smirk, pride shining through. “You never said you were a detective.”

Fareeha laughed, almost doubling over. “I have some brains to go with my brawn.”

“I never doubted it,” Satya teased. Fareeha rested her forehead against her’s, giggling softly.

“I know, Habibi. You hit the ground, I’ll fly the skies.” Do what they did best, even if it kept them apart. Satya sighed; if a fault could be exploited in the rebellion’s motivation, they could dismantle the whole operation from its foundation. Most importantly, no one would get hurt.

Satya caressed Fareeha’s cheek, thumb brushing over the place a tattoo had once been.

(What _of_ , had faded from her memory.)

 

**0XX0**

 

Satya woke up to a bare room, tied to a chair, and a group of people in front of her. They weren’t paying her any attention, though, instead arguing with each other in hushed tones. Men and women, all relatively young - the oldest at least a year younger than her, presumably - speaking in a language she didn’t recognise. A Cretan tongue to hide their words from her.

She didn’t recognise anything here. She’d just been on the street, incognito and investigating rumoured hideouts for rebels. She’d felt those eyes on her back, burning into her, and leapt to action.

Then there was nothing.

She groaned her discontent.

Heads whipped around to meet her glare, surprised and sheepish at once. She sat up as tall as her restraints would allow, peering down her nose as she willed her voice not to shake.

“Kidnapping an innocent is punishable by five years in prison. I suggest reconsidering your choices.”

Their expressions didn’t change as they considered each other.

A teenage girl stepped forward. “State Alchemists like you aren’t innocent. Especially Vishkar alchemists!”

“Fernanda!”

“It’s true!” The girl countered, spitting at Satya’s feet. “You’re dogs of the military rowing down whatever they don’t like! Overwatch did it in Ishval, Vishkar will do it here, just you wait.”

“How dare you,” Satya snarled, baring her teeth and drawing herself up further as she tried to free her hands. Those closest to her took a step back. “Our government has dedicated themselves to improving this country since the War! They’ve cleaned up Overwatch’s mess and made us greater!”

“Don’t you spew—”

A door slammed open and all voices died as the new figure stood in the doorway, covered in mud and dust. Against the sunlight behind him, he made a small silhouette compared to the others. Satya squinted to make out the details - dark skin, long flowing dreadlocks - was that a frog on his shirt?

“ _What_ is goin’ on here?”

He closed the door behind him, shrouding them all in shadows once more, and made a beeline for the group, all as young as he.

Satya watched closely.

“Lúcio!”

“We were gonna tell ya—”

Lúcio waved his hands and tutted them into silence, shaking his head.

“A straight answer. _Please_.”

Satya cleared her throat loudly, earning Lúcio’s raised eyebrow and boundless curiosity in one glance. The others around him returned to glaring, but nothing more. Almost as if they were waiting for a cue…

“Y’all can start by explaining _this_.” Lúcio crossed his arms, looking around at everybody. The girl, Fernanda, stepped forward and held out her hand, holding something silver—

“You thief!”

Lúcio took _her_ pocket watch and ran his thumb over the engravings, not giving Satya the time of day as his expression turned grave. She felt her shoulders tense up and her hands clench at air from the sight of _her watch_ in someone else’s hands.

“That watch is mine! You have no right to take it!” She fought against the rope, her chair scraping across the floor.

“I’m wonderin’ why a State Alchemist’s in Janeiro,” He turned to his group, brows furrowed. “but I’d still like to know why she was brought _here_?!”

A couple stepped forward, awkward and pleading. “She was pokin’ around too much! Thought we’d get the upper hand.”

“Or hold her ‘til her bosses answered a ransom.”

Satya scoffed, rolling her eyes and still tugging against the rope. “I’m right here.”

“Guys, I told you; Vishkar - no one cares about ransoms, hostages or whoever we send.” Lúcio massaged his forehead and crossed his arms, sighing. He looked too tired for one so young, but Satya decreed not to sympathise with the man who threatened the peace of their country.

She couldn’t risk it.

The violent girl, Fernanda, now soft and imploring, went up to Lúcio to hold his arm. She spoke in a hushed voice, “Lúcio, please consider it. We’ve never been this close before!”

Satya rolled her shoulders and winced at how sore they were. The nerve endings connected to her automail were burning embers that would no doubt flare up if she didn’t get out soon. She could do this; a little negotiation did wonders.

She straightened herself up and steeled her gaze.

“If you let me go now, I won’t press charges.”

Fernanda tore away from Lúcio, glaring back with venom on her lips. “No, you’ll just have us all murdered—!”

“Lemme handle this.” Lúcio patted Fernanda’s shoulder with a smile and stood her by the windows before throwing Satya under his analytical gaze. There was an unparalleled intelligence behind it, one rarely seen outside the halls of Vishkar’s headquarters.

It made her want to question everything, dig her heels into her newfound curiosity for this stranger and his revolution, spiral into a new hyperfixation to overload her mind. Satya held back. She had a job to do, one she could not fail at any cost.

“Untie me so we may speak as civilised people.” She stated, head high and pointed. Always the State Alchemist.

“I trust you about as far as I can throw ya, Vishkar.” Lúcio shook his head and threw her watch to her feet. He stood before her properly, looking all the man that he was yet to be, and let out a breath. “I’ll admit, it wasn’t the best idea to kidnap you, but what’s done is done; Gotta live with it.”

Satya looked him in the eye, holding his attention as she spoke with all the weight that was on her shoulders.

“The only reason I’m in Janeiro is to uncover the source of this uprising.” She swallowed and took a breath, urging her expression to say what she couldn’t. “Tell me that and I’ll forget this incident.”

Lúcio pursed his lips, shifting on his feet as he ducked his head down to hide his silent reply. “You say that but if we just let you go, we’ll have Vishkar, Helix and all the branches bustin’ down our doors.”

She couldn’t tell what he meant from his flat tone. But even so, she couldn’t help the flicker of annoyance at the implication of his words.

“What silly ideas you have for how your government works.” She hissed, leaning forward to meet his eye again. “If you let me explain to my superiors why you’re upset, they will do everything in their power to set things right!”

He looked at her again, eyebrows drawn down and the frown saying so much in that Cretan language. His shoulders slumped and he moved back, still watching her.

“They got you too.” His voice was almost too quiet for her to pick up, edging on a broken cliff. Satya felt her lips twist into a scowl, and the burning eyes on her once again.

“What—”

A boy fell down amongst shattered window glass.

“ **_Get down!_ **”

The bodies scattered to the floor, leaving Satya wide open in the middle. She fought against the ropes, willing for her hands to brush. A small transmutation was all she needed.

Another shot ran out and Fernanda screamed. Lúcio crawled over to her, carving a rough circle into the floor. Satya didn’t recognise the runes, though their placements suggested—

Someone knocked into her and she fell to the ground in a heap. She hissed in pain and grunted as she tried to get back up. She brought a hand up to her forehead—

Her hands were free.

Satya shot up onto her feet and clapped her hands, the energy following through her like the steps to an old dance. She ran forward, calling up the transmutation, and held her hands to the light.

A bright translucent wall appeared before her, shielding the room from the next bullet. Everyone fell silent as they watched another lodge itself into the block of solid light. Satya turned to them.

“RUN!”

Everybody, injured or not, rushed to the door. It burst open, a tall figure blocking the way. Dressed in black, covered head to toe in a shadowy cloak and staring down at them through a stark white mask. Pointing shotguns at them, with claws bearing a skull emblem atop an ouroboros.

Satya clapped her hands again and threw them to the floor. A fist shot up and punched him out onto the street.

The wasted no time running out to the winds. Satya kept to Lúcio, looking up the buildings for the sniper.

Then the screaming began. Bodies fell; innocent ones. Satya felt lost.

_Fareeha, where are you?_

A cloud of smoke formed in the middle of the street. The masked gunman appeared from it, shotguns blazing onto the running crowds.

Satya clapped and formed another light barrier, covering the people. The gunman moved, and she followed. The sun was getting low, pushing her to transmute more and more. The gunman ignored her, focusing on the people.

The ground rumbled. A high-pitched screech filled the air and they covered their ears, falling to their knees. Satya clenched her teeth, willing the bile of overstimulation away. The gunman screeched back, nails on a chalkboard.

The noise died down and Lúcio stepped into view, pulling on a pair of gloves. Under his feet were grooves in the dirt, like soundwaves.

“I dunno who you are, but no one attacks my city!”

The gunman glowered and reached for a shotgun.

“Stand back!”

A body fell from a building to the gunman. Another jumped down, landing in front of Satya and Lúcio. Fareeha glanced back at them, smiling with her eyes.

“Sniper’s out.” Satya beamed and stood up to face the enemy.

The new body, a blue-skinned woman, made her pause. Over her chest was the same tattoo as the gunman’s…

“Who are you?!” She stood forward, imploring. The shooters spared her one glance, shadows creeping around them.

They vanished into thin air.

Satya gasped and stumbled into Fareeha’s arms as her legs failed her, holding onto her burning automail. She closed her eyes, not daring to look at the chaos that was bound to be overtaking the streets. She could hear the cries from afar; a symbol of everything she’d feared for Janeiro, come to life.

“And who the hell are _you_?” Lúcio came before them, jabbing a finger at Pharah. Satya went to defend but her girlfriend stopped her.

“The one who knows _everything_.” Pharah shot back, making Satya perk up. She nodded back and Satya let herself smile.

Lúcio looked between them, quiet for once. He shook the dust out of his locks and stood aside to let Pharah lead them to a private alley, away from prying eyes Satya could no longer feel on her back.

Tucked away out of sight and mind, Pharah nodded to Lúcio and started: Last year, Janeiro had held its mayoral election with two candidates: Rodrigo Ramos, and Camila Salvador. One candidate, Salvador, was the clear victor with a majority in the polls and favourable public opinion during her vigorous campaign effort.

Ramos took the office on election day to little fanfare.

“It was such bull!” Lúcio groaned. “ _No one_ voted for him but he gets the mayor’s seat? Whole thing was rigged, there’s no other way.”

“You could have reported to Central,” Satya wrapped her arms around herself, staying away from the walls. “There are anti-corruption offices meant to deal with this exact situation.”

“That’s the thing: we did.”

Pharah hummed and opened her chest armour, pulling out a file. Lúcio blinked at the emptiness but couldn’t comment before Pharah handed the file over.

“It was widely reported on by independent journalists in the city, with one photographer even finding evidence of poll tampering from an unknown party we just met.” Satya opened up the file and sitting on top of the papers was a photograph, taken from outside into an office. Ramos, presumably, stood in front of two figures: the shooters.

“What does this have to do with the uprising?” Satya asked, handing the file over to Lúcio.

He cleared his throat. “We reported the fraud to Central and we got nothing after weeks of waiting. We went to city hall, to the journalists…”

“And that’s when the bodies started piling up.” Pharah pointed at the file and Lúcio went through it, showing morgue reports of various persons all seemingly unrelated, but from the expression on Lúcio, there was more to them.

“Anyone who spoke out against Ramos, the city council, the government - they all disappeared. Most folks stopped noticin’, but not the favelas.” Lúcio shook his head, rubbing his thumb over a corpse’s photograph. “We don’t forget our own. We fight for ‘em.”

“That doesn’t make sense,” Satya muttered. “Central would have noticed this. They would have sent Vishkar or Helix.”

“Don’t you get it?” Lúcio turned to her at last, scowling. “Central is part of it. They’re coverin’ it up!”

“You have no proof—”

“Zózimo Castro dos Santos!” Satya froze at the tears in Lúcio’s eyes, threatening to spill. She _knew_ that name. Lúcio wiped his face and sniffed. “He went to Vishkar to tell them about Ramos and they shot him! They shot my Papai in the square…”

He hiccuped and wiped his face again, biting down on his lip. Pharah reached out to him but he turned away. Satya stood there, feeling like a fool. Santos was a name known well to amateur Vishkar agents: a State Alchemist responsible for grand transmutations, remarkable inventions, and groundbreaking research.

His death should have brought Central, West Base, South Base - all raining down to bring control back to Janeiro. Killing a State Alchemist…

Yet she hadn’t known he was dead, until now. She wasn’t here to investigate his passing nor those that’d gone missing before him. She was here chasing a grieving son’s fight.

It wasn’t right.

(What did Vishkar really know? It had to be a coup, didn’t it?)

Satya felt Fareeha around her, rubbing circles over her back and whispering nothings; Lúcio in his own corner pondering the empty armour. It was all too far away, too unreal. She couldn’t feel the gaze burning into her back anymore, but she suspected that this was just a brief respite.

That _something_ was only just beginning.

**Author's Note:**

> I maaaaay write more of this AU, mostly in one-shots and doodle comics if I have the time ;P Let me know your thoughts in the comments!!
> 
> Check out my [pillowfort](https://www.pillowfort.io/LochAndLoad) or [twitter](https://twitter.com/LochAndLoad) for extra art, AUs and ramblings from yours truly. Or chat to me (LochAndLoad#1845) on discord!


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